Science Doesn't Speak as Loud as the Heart
by ASDF Rainbow Ninja
Summary: Random drabbles and one-shots that typically have nothing to do with each other. Johnlock! Don't like, don't read. Title based off of Coldplay's "The Scientist." Which is like, the perfect Johnlock song. Now includes 30 Day OTP Challenge.
1. Sherlocked

**Sherlocked**

**A/N- So I recently got into this show...and oh my gosh. I loved it. I was hysterical after TRF. My friends were laughing at me. Oh well. But I'm a supporter of Johnlock. ^_^ If you aren't, I suggest you leave. Kthnxbai.**

**This is my first Sherlock fic. I'm American...so bear with me. Please.**

**This will be a series of drabbles and one-shots that have nothing to do with each other.**

* * *

They were working on a case- a bloody confusing one, at that. Currently, they were sitting on a frigid concrete floor, hands and ankles bound with thick and rather scratchy rope. They were leaning against the concrete wall, trapped in what seemed like a basement by its dim lighting and damp attributes.

Having been previously knocked out with gas, though, John was dreaming.

_"John. I know you're attracted." Sherlock muttered, stepping within close proximity to his dirty blond blogger. In response, John's cheeks became flushed with pink. "T-to what?" he stuttered, hoping that Sherlock hadn't figured out his secret._

_"Me. You're attracted to me." He had. John felt his face nearly exploded as his stomach twisted into knots and his chest burned. He couldn't possibly know. He just couldn't._

_John decided to continue his denial. "Like bloody hell I am! I'm _not_ gay!"_

_"But you're attracted to me." Sherlock retorted, inching even closer. John was getting angry now, and with furrowed eyebrows, his ocean eyes pierced into the detective. "And what deduction led you to that conclusion?!"_

_Taking no breathes between points, Sherlock explained. "The immense blush on your cheeks, the sweat forming on your brow, the dilation of your pupils-" He paused to grasp John's wrist, and John ripped his hand from Sherlock's electrifying touch. The momentary grasp was enough for Sherlock to gain his next piece of evidence, so he continued, "-your increased heart rate, the fact that you literally went weak in the knees when I touched you, the stutter in your voice that indicates nervousness, and also the sound of defensiveness...shall I go on?" He had a large smirk on his face. He was enjoying this, the bastard._

_John was frozen, only daring to blink at the detective. He didn't know whether to be angry or embarrassed. Sherlock was obviously amused, though, with a smirk gracing his beautiful lips- dear _God_, John needed to stop thinking so highly of the man._

_Sherlock brought him out of his inappropriate thoughts. Even if that wasn't necessarily good or bad. "It's okay, John. I am not bothered in the slightest." He was still amused. John grumbled, and almost pouted with the ever-growing blush staining most of his face. "I'm not gay." he repeated, beginning the cycle once again._

_"Never said you were. Just attracted to me." Sherlock was surprisingly patient with him, and he gently wrapped his thin arms around the doctor's waist and pulled him closer, as if to show the returning of feelings. John chuckled sheepishly, the slight anger that he had still pent up diminishing completely._

_"...would that make me Sherlocked?" He grinned brightly, referring to Irene Alder's long-ago obsession with the tall man. Sherlock mirrored his partner's smile. "Indeed it would."_

Suddenly, John was nudged out of his dream. He awoke with a killer migraine and groaned as he attempted to move his head from Sherlock's bony-yet-oddly-comfortable shoulder.

"Where are we?" he murmured weakly.

"I'm not sure yet. Give me a moment." Sherlock sounded fine. Of course he was- he was bloody perfect, and his features proved it- marble-like skin, ebony curled locks that highly contrasted his pale surface, icy green eyes, high cheekbones, Cupid's bow lips and the fact that he always dressed like a damn model and he looked so attractive- _stop_.

There were three other guys in the room that guarded the two, and they had a hard time taking their eyes off of the captives. Two were smirking and pointing at them most likely gossiping like bloody school girls from afar. John sighed in annoyance and forced his head up, though he was as still as comfortable as he could be tied up in a life-threatening situation.

Sherlock noticed his friends distress, but was slightly annoyed himself. "Don't worry about them, John. Honestly. You're always so worked up about other's opinions of us." he spoke quietly, staring right into John's deep irises.

"Because I'm not gay!" John felt like he had spoken that too many times. The repetitiveness was making his headache worse.

Sherlock chuckled, low and sexy- _no_.

"No. You're Sherlocked." John's blood froze at these words. The horrors he had experienced in his dreams were now unfolding before him somehow, and he was about to loose an extremely long abd important friendship. But he had to figured out how Sherlock seemed to have read his mind. "How did you-?!"

"You talk in your sleep. It's quite intriguing, really."

Before John could think to utter an embarrassed reply or come up with some lousy excuse, the loner barked an order for them to shut up. Sherlock glared up at him. "Cheating on your wife and girlfriend with your cousin? That is rather alarming. And disgusting." Sherlock made a face. John couldn't hold back his snort of laughter, even if the timing was rather inappropriate.

Needless to say, both boys gained dark bruises to the side of the head, but the situation opened up an opportunity to untie themselves and knock out the guards with their own guns. Sherlock was arming himself when John forced words out of his throat that was blocked with a lump.

"Sherlock...I-I'm sor-"

Sherlock suddenly grabbed the collar of John's jumper and yanked him into a hard, stationary kiss that left John warm, weak, tingly, and begging for more. It was much too short, but Sherlock had a reason that he announced as he pulled away.

"We have to escape before we're found."

But there was a genuine smile on his face, highlighted by a faint blush and he stalked away with blog- _boyfriend_ trailing behind him.


	2. Haunted

**Haunted**

**A/N- I don't think timing really matters, but I will say this is set after S2E3. But that's obvious as you read.**

**I also wish to thank my cousin for RPing with me and giving me ideas. ^_^**

* * *

As John sighed, his breath misted from chapped lips- the temperature was in the 30's and it was pouring down rain, yet he and Sherlock were approaching a crime scene after climbing hastily out of a cab. According to Lestrade, the evidence leaned towards a suicide- the word that still made John cringe as it filled his being with horrid memories and feelings of Sherlock's fall, haunting him not only in his dreams, but in reality as well.

He forced those thoughts out of his head- Sherlock was with him right then, alive and well.

That didn't stop him from glancing up at him to make sure.

Sherlock noticed this and stared back down at him, questioning him with his icy green eyes. John's stomach flipped as it always did when his partner looked into his eyes, and he flashed a weak grin in his direction, reassuring him that he was okay.

They reached the unidentified body that laid limp on the ground before the detective could question him further. Blood spilled from the stranger's head, the main body part that caught his fall from a towering building- thick hair sprawled out among the blood puddle. The crimson liquid mixed with the rainwater, swirling around each other in a seeming game of chase as they flowed towards John, almost teasingly.

Suddenly, in what was an extremely realistic, vivid flashback, Sherlock was the one dead on the ground, blood draining rapidly from his head, curly ebony locks drowning in it as it spread in a large puddle across the sidewalk. Icy irises were wide open yet unmoving, nearly taunting John.

He jumped back as if he had been burned, letting out a cry of surprise and rubbed his eyes roughly. When he brought his fists away, the stranger remained dead in front of him, and Sherlock- _alive_- and the rest of the detectives were watching him with wide, frightened gazes.

Well, Sherlock was blank as usual, but...

"John?" he inquired, worry coating tone. John's stomach was churning, as if he were about to throw up his guts. His eyes burned with sudden tears, a lump in his throat restricting him from breathing normally. He had to leave.

"I'm going to be sick." And he stalked away quickly, clutching his stomach in hopes that he wouldn't spill his lunch everywhere. He dizzily made his way down the street, frantically searching for a place to hide until he calmed down.

When he was found leaning against a brick wall in an ally way, it was by Sherlock. Though his eyelids were squeezed together, he knew who paced over by the sound of his footsteps.

"Are you alright?" John pulled his head from its resting place against the wall, barely daring to peak at his best friend through pale eyelashes.

"I won't be for a while." he admitted with an unsteady voice. He was still struggling to get over the fall, even with Sherlock beside him for several months. Though he had got better, incidences such as _that_ happened occasionally.

"John...I'm sorry..." Sherlock's voice itself was practically pleading for forgiveness, never wanting to cause either of them pain- especially not John.

Rather than speaking, John grabbed his signature navy scarf and roughly pulled him into a hard kiss. Sherlock was caught off guard for a mere moment, and he braced his arms against the brick on either side of John to catch himself. He then responded eagerly, forcing his partner's mouth open with his and attacking the blogger's tongue, his own battling for dominance. John moaned into Sherlock's mouth at the roughness that thoroughly aroused him, and pulled back slightly to bite down on his lower lip. Sherlock moaned much like John, and grasped his hips to brought him even closer, barely any inch of space between them. In response, John buried his fingers into the detective's soft, dark hair, need taking over his body. It was now stifling hot, despite the winter air, and all he wanted to do was remove the clothes that prevented the two from further contact. Sherlock seemed to have the same idea as he lifted John's tan jumper and placed his frozen hands on his waist. John cursed himself for jumping at his ice-like grip and breaking the kiss, but Sherlock seemed to have more common sense at the time and left it broken- for now. Both breathing heavily, John fell against his companion and finally replied in a breathless whisper against his chest.

_"Don't."_


	3. Fear

**Fear **

**A/N- Minor Johnlock. No kissing or anything, just a visitation of feelings. Mostly Sherlock's. This is set during S1E3...well it IS, actually. **

**Again, this came from a RP, but it took a completely different turn. **

* * *

Sherlock was frightened.

He wasn't scared of much of anything, as most emotions were complete rubbish to him.

But as John made his way into the pool, Sherlock's heart had dropped into his stomach and he felt his blood run cold- he had told the leader behind the bombs to meet him there, and his flat mate, friend, best friend, blogger, partner, and even the man he could honestly say he returned feelings for (though unspoken, John wasn't very good at hiding his attraction) was standing in front of him.

But thankfully, in reality, it was James Moriarty who was behind the entire scheme, and John the final bomb victim. Which still terrified Sherlock to no ends, especially as lasers threatened them from afar, hidden snipers surrounding the building.

As Jim had left, though, Sherlock had ripped the bombs off of John, practically interrogating him.

"Alright?" Both males were panting heavily, having been basically holding their breaths, awaiting the next move from James.

"Are you alright?!" Sherlock demanded when he didn't get an answer.

"Yeah, yeah." John breathed quickly, as if muttering one word. "Yeah. I'm fine. I'm fine. Sherlock." Sherlock continued ripping the device off of him, frantically yanking and pulling roughly.

"Sh-Sherlock!" John exclaimed as his partner threw the vest across the room. Sherlock still made no move to reply to the doctor as he stood there, attempting to calm his racing heart and catch his breath. Sherlock suddenly raced forward, and John's legs went to collapse from under him. He kept slight balance, though, and rushed to the wall, where he sunk to the floor in a squat with his back pressed against it, all the while muttering incoherent words under his breath.

When Sherlock returned, he was holding a gun. John noticed his finger was positioned on the trigger, the weapon still fully loaded as he scratched it against his head. The detective panted almost as much as John and paced between him and the bomb. He hadn't ever seen his best friend behave like so.

Sherlock had never felt more terrified- afraid of loosing John, the one person he considered his everything. Afraid of the power that Moriarty possessed.

"You okay?" John finally wondered, seeming to calm down.

Sherlock was caught off guard. "Me? Yeah. Fine. I'm fine...fine." He was lying through his teeth, continuing to scratch his head and pace. His mind was reeling, blurs of thoughts moving about his brain at the speed of sound. The incident replayed in his head like a broken record, and his feelings of gratitude and love for the blond solider reappeared as he analyzed when John had the enemy in a choke hold. He wanted to thank him, although he wasn't very skilled in the art of appreciation.

"That, uh...thing that you, uh...that you did that, uh...that you offered to do, that was, uh...good." Close enough? Sherlock met eyes with John's sapphire ones for a brief moment, and he saw that he understood his thanks and how awkward it was for him to throw it out into the open.

John quickly changed the subject. "Well I'm glad no one saw that."

"Hm?" The gun was finally still, their gazes locked. Both males secretly just wanted to kiss each other hard, admit everything to each other and leave for the safety of the flat.

"You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk." John answered. Sherlock's heart picked up speed, and he shoved all thoughts of continuing such a process right there in the middle of the pool.

"They do little else." he replied with a genuine smile that had both boys chuckling half-heartedly.

_Heart._

Sherlock's mind reeled once more.

_"If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you. I will burn the __heart__ out of you."_

_"I have been reliably informed that I do not have one."_

_"But we both know that's not quite true."_

Moriarty was right, in his own sick way. Sherlock did have a heart. And it was proven through his unmasked fear for John.

* * *

**A/N- I seriously have no idea what Sherlock really says to Moriarty after "I will burn the heart out of you." I have a hard time understanding them sometimes. Ugh. I hate it. **

**Anyways, if you guys know, please inform me. I'm a perfectionist when it comes to my writing. Thanks!**

**EDIT: Thanks to CraftyLion for correcting the issue!**


	4. Silence

**Silence**

**A/N- UPDATE- I didn't realize that the conversations weren't separated! I do apologize!**

**Inspired by a picture on Pinterest. And thank you YouTuber kitkatdogyou for your amazing "Johnlock Moment from 'A Study in Pink' to 'The Reichenbach Fall" video. It helped me quote all these. And it's just great.**

**Just in case-**

Normal text is John.

_Italicized is Sherlock._

**Bold is Irene Adler OR James Moriarty.**

Underline is other.

* * *

"'Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Wastson'...Bachlor? What the hell are they implying?"

* * *

"'Confirmed bachelor Watson?!'"

* * *

"Free, on the house, for you, and your date."

"I'm not his date."

* * *

"Wh-who the hell knows about Sherlock Holmes? But, for the record, if anyone out there still cares, I'm not actually gay."

**"Well I am...Look at us both."**

* * *

"You're still hanging around him?"

"Yeah, well..."

"It's attract, I suppose?"

"We're not-"

"You should get yourself a hobby."

* * *

"I gotta candle for your table. Small romantic."

"I'm not his date!"

* * *

"We're not a couple!"

**"Yes you are."**

* * *

_"Hm?"_

"You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk."

_"They do little else."_

* * *

_"Take my hand!"_

"Now people will definitely talk!"

* * *

**"Well, he's sweet, I can see why you enjoy having him around. But then, people do get so sentimental about their pets."**

* * *

"**Well, somebody loves you. Why, if I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too."**

* * *

"There's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two bedrooms."

"Of course we'll be needing two."

"Oh, don't worry, we have all sorts around here!"

* * *

"You look sad when you think he can't see you."

* * *

Sherlock corrects everyone about any error with a simple, "Wrong."

When people assume John and him are a couple, he never says anything.

He just remains silent.


	5. Experiment

**Experiment**

* * *

Sherlock usually made John retrieve his phone for him, whether an arm's length away or in a completely different area, and the doctor would comply easily most of the time.

But today was different.

Sherlock was conducting an experiment.

His phone rested on the table right next to John's chair, where he was sitting and typing away on his blog. Perfect. He was distracted.

Sherlock raised up from his position on the couch and casually made his way to his friend. Then, he leaned right over him, drawing enough attention to himself so that John raised his head. Their faces were close. Too close for comfort. Jumping, John leaned back, cheeks flushed pink. Sherlock's sea green eyes bored into his cobalt, as if studying him.

In which he was. He grabbed John's wrist, taking his pulse.

_Flushed face, heart rate through the roof, dilated pupils with the look of desire, sweaty palms..._

"Sherlock, what are you-?" John stammered.

_...nervous behavior..._

He was attempting to get words passed his throat when Sherlock released his wrist, retrieved his phone, and walked away as if nothing had happened.

After a moment of regaining his focus and voice, John called after him, "I could've got it for you if you just asked!"

"Experiment." Sherlock replied simply, as if that word explained his motive entirely.

It did in his mind, at least.

He retreated to his bedroom, fingers flying as he texted, a small smirk gracing his pale face.


	6. Again

**Again**

**A/N- Angsty fluff!**

* * *

Sherlock had always been dangerous.

It was long after the fall, and John was mostly over he whole incident. But then, while chasing a criminal, Sherlock had jumped off of the roof of a building- John completely freaked. "Sherlock!" he nearly screamed, and peered over the edge.

Sherlock was fine, of course, but John wasn't. He couldn't bring himself to get down, and backed away from the edge with shaking legs before collapsing completely. He then brought them up to his chest as thick tears streamed down his face. Sobs racked his body, and he tried to reassure himself it was okay- but he wouldn't listen.

It seemed like he was there for hours before Sherlock returned. His sobbing had lessened, but he was still torn.

"John?" In reply, the solider sniffed. Sherlock sat by him. "What's wrong?" John was too upset to realize Sherlock's monotone had been replaced with a concerned tone. He instead became angry. "You jumped off the bloody edge of the roof! Again! I thought that...I..." He anger faded into sadness as he sobbed violently. Sherlock pulled him into his arms, head on his chest and body in his lap. He hushed John gently, feeling immense guilt for causing his friend so much pain. He stroked the doctor's hair softly as he spoke. "I'm sorry, John. But I'm here...and I'll never leave you again. I promise."


	7. Jumper

**Jumper**

**A/N- This one is my favorite so far. Fluffy, fluffy, fluffy, a little bit of suggestive themes towards the end.**

**Three updates at once! Whoop!**

* * *

John entered the flat, dragging a suitcase and a duffle bag behind him. He had been out of town for a few days visiting Harry, and it was great to be back.

But he wasn't greeted by Sherlock's normal shenanigans. He shut the door, placed his bags on the ground, and searched the dim room for the man. He found him snoozing on the couch and approached him with a soft smile. He took in everything- how his legs draped over the arm because of his height, how disheveled and haphazard his dark hair was, how peaceful he looked in his rare form of slumber...

And lastly, the somewhat-too-small pale blue jumper that he wore. It was one of John's bigger ones, and Sherlock looked absolutely adorable in it.

John reached out to stroke Sherlock's cheek, rubbing his thumb across the smooth, pale surface. Sherlock stirred, eyes flickering opening. "You're home." he murmured with a drowsy grin. Returning it, John leaned down and kissed his forehead, replying with a "Mhmm" against it. He began to pull back when Sherlock reached out and grasped his hand gently, intertwining their fingers and pulling him back to press his lips against his. John carefully situated himself above his boyfriend, knees bracing either side of him, lips slowly and carefully caressing his. After a short amount of time, he forced himself away, much to Sherlock's disappointment. But John had to ask before he forgot. "Why are you wearing my jumper?" Sherlock seemed suddenly embarrassed as his cheeks tinged a light red. "I missed you..." he admitted quietly. John grinned broadly before bringing Sherlock in for another kiss, this one more intimate than the last. Sherlock wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist, pulling him down completely to where he was laying on him. In return, John slid his hands into his curls, fingering the silky strands. Sherlock moaned quietly against his touch, relishing it after its absence. John smiled and pulled away slightly, face hovering above his lover's. "I missed you too. And you look rather adorable in my clothes, love."

"Well you'd look adorable with them off." Sherlock replied with a husky voice, and trailed kisses along the blond's jawline and neck. John moaned, gripping the detective's hair tightly. "Bedroom?"

"Couch." Sherlock managed, and then attacked John's lips with his.


	8. Emoticons

**Emoticons**

**A/N- ATTENTION READER. Yes, you. Like Johnlock? If so, I am about to post a new story called Saving Me- it is Teen!lock, though. If you are interested, please follow me (or this story and I'll tell when it's posted). **

* * *

Jooohn. -SH

No. -JW

How could you possibly know I was going to ask you of something? -SH

We've been friends for how long, Sherlock? -JW

3 years, 126 days, 942 minutes, and 30 seconds as of when I hit send. -SH

Wow. I'm touched that you've kept track. :) -JW

I keep track of things that matter to me. So of course. -SH

I matter to you? ;) -JW

Don't be an idiot, John. You know very well that you mean everything to me. And stop with the childish emoticons. -SH

No. :) and aw. Thanks, Sherlock. -JW

Yeah, yeah. Now will you be home soon? That was my question. -SH

And stop. Smiling. -SH

10 minutes. :) -JW

John. -SH

:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) -JW

I'm going to shoot your phone while you're sleeping. -SH

Worth it. :) -JW


	9. Alleyway

**Alleyway**

**A\N- SAVING ME IS OUT IN CASE YOU DIDN'T KNOW.**

**Anyway. I got this idea from a comic. Also, I found some random prompt: "John and Sherlock find themselves in a confined space during a case and stuff happens."**

**Warning: very slight sexual themes, language, and a completely "oblivious" Sherlock.**

**ALSO I AM SO SORRY BUT I DIDNT REALIZE THAT SILENCE WAS SCREWED UP. I FIXED IT IF YOU WANT TO GO AND READ IT AGAIN. IT MAKES SENSE NOW. **

* * *

John could hear Sherlock's heartbeat.

It was fast, pounding against his chest, but most likely from adrenaline. John's head was forced against him, the brick walls against their backs not allowing much room for the tight alleyway. His heart was beating just as fast. But it wasn't from the escape.

"I think we're clear." Sherlock mumbled, voice low and deep and right into John's ear. His hot breath swam against his neck and he shivered, trying as hard as he could to block all inappropriate thoughts of his best friend.

"Good." John breathed, looking up at the pale man towering over him. Sherlock's face was already within close proximity, but suddenly he was leaning closer, forearms braced against the brick on either side of John's head. Blushing profusely, John turned it sideways, clenching his eyelids shut. _No. You don't want him to kiss you. Or snog you senseless. Or fuck you so hard you won't be able to remember your own- shit. Stopstop__**STOP**__. _"Sh-Sherlock, what're you-"

"Observing, John. Observing. Are you quite alright? Your face is red and you're breathing heavily." John dared to take a peak at him. He honestly looked curious, like a child not knowing that they're doing any wrong. But for all he knew it was an act. Sherlock was a genius, after all. John sighed heavily, attempting to halt the sudden blood flow to his groin.

"I-I'm f-fine. The running w-wore me out is all." Sherlock snatched one of John's hands that remained by his side to check his pulse, brushing against his thigh on accident. Or possibly on purpose. John half-way stifled a moan as he lost control of himself. The blush exploding across his face, he prayed that Sherlock wouldn't react badly. He looked down, wanting to avoid his beautiful, piercing eyes.

"You brought your gun?" Sherlock inquired innocently. John would've laughed if it wasn't him that owned the erection. "N-no."

And then everything clicked for Sherlock.

"...oh."

* * *

**A/N- considering a sequel. Don't count on it. But if you want to read a continuation of this just tell me. I'll think about it.**


	10. Tickle

**Tickle**

**A/N- well this isn't the sequel to Alleyway but I'm still considering posting one. **

**Warning: mild sexual themes even though this was supposed to be innocent. **

* * *

"Sherlock."

...

"Sherlock?"

...

John was receiving no reply from the detective in front of him. He was staring off into space, and normally, John would've left him alone- but they weren't on a case and usually Sherlock was sulking about it. But now his mind seemed to be in overdrive.

John carefully nudged his side, and Sherlock jumped nearly ten feet in the air and cried out before glaring at John, rather alarmed. "What?!" John attempted to hold back his laughter, but then burst into a fit of giggles. "You're ticklish!"

Sherlock's cheeks glowed a bright pink. "Am not! You just caught me off guard is all!"

"Oh. Okay." John said innocently, too casual about it.

And then Sherlock was being attacked by John, tickling him in his weakest points. They fell onto floor in a heap of laughter. Sherlock tried to pry John off of him as he yelled orders at him to stop- but he didn't seem very threatening through his hysterics.

John caught Sherlock's wrist and slammed them back, pinning them behind his head. Sherlock glared up at the blogger, breathing heavily but thankful for the break. Then he realized how questionable their position was. John straddled his hips, and had his hands pinned above his head. They were both flushed and panting.

As heat swam in his lower abdomen as well as his cheeks, he struggled to pull his wrists out if John's vice-like grip. He knew it was no use- he was stronger than Sherlock. A lot stronger. "John..." he groaned, making one last attempt- he arched his back in trial- and error- and then instantly regretted doing so as both of their groins met. Sherlock slammed his body back down.

_No. Think about Anderson. God. That ugly face and his stupidity. Think about how he'll never amount to anything and how much better you are than him. _

John didn't know why he was still on Sherlock.

All he knew was that his face and his lower half were on fire. He stifled a moan when Sherlock attempted to move, and then he lost control.

Sherlock gaped at John. So much for thinking of Anderson.

With sudden new found strength- or maybe John had slackened on his grip- Sherlock raised up and slammed John back to the floor, kissing him deeply. John responded after a moment of shock and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him down completely on top.

After a few minutes of heated kissing, Sherlock pulled away, still hovering over John. "If you ever tickle me again, I'm going to kill you." John smiled mischievously and then gently poked at one of Sherlock's sides. He jumped, and then sent him an annoyed glare. John chuckled. "C'mon, Sherlock," he mumbled, pulling him closer, "It's cute." And they kissed again, Sherlock secretly not minding the tickling much- it meant John was flirting.

And he liked that a lot.


	11. Right (Day 1 of 30)

**Right**

**A/N- So I'm starting the 30 Day OTP Challenge. Expect a chapter every day for the next month or so!**

* * *

**1. Holding Hands**

"Sherlock, remind me again why we're posing as a couple?" John murmured, stomach churning in delight as he felt Sherlock's palm press against his. His fingertips sent off sparks of electricity, and he felt his face and neck rise in temperature.

"Because, it's a party, we're after a kidnapper, and it would be suspicious for us to go as friends." Sherlock replied, not looking at John as he scanned the perimeter. They were working on a case to find the supposed kidnapper of several teenage girls. He still didn't understand Sherlock's logic behind being a "couple" when they were just friends. And that was all they would ever be.

_Maybe. _

John was surprised to find that while Sherlock was looking away, there was a mild blush decorating his cheeks. Smiling hopefully, John spoke again, gathering up the courage to carry out his plan. "Well, if we're going to be a couple, we have to look like one- this isn't how couples hold hands." He twisted his wrist slightly to free himself from the other's grasp, and slid his fingers in between the gaps of Sherlock's. His blush intensified, and he avoided the taller one's intense gaze. Focusing on other things- like girls, that no longer interested him for some reason- was difficult when their hands fit like puzzle pieces.

_It just feels so right. _

Sherlock tried to ignore the feelings he now knew as love- no matter how hard he tried to delete the sensation, it wouldn't ever work. John and the feeling associated with him was forever implanted in his brain.

And recently, he didn't really mind all that much, especially when John corrected their hands and _everything just feels so right. _


	12. Cold (Day 2)

**Cold**

* * *

**Day 2: Cuddling Somewhere**

The kidnapper case dragged on for several more days before something interesting happened. As Sherlock and John were watching out for more kidnaps, suspecting girls to go missing, they forgot to watch out for themselves.

Thankfully, Sherlock was smart enough to leave clues so John would find him locked in a large freezer in a factory run by the criminal, along with several others- mostly young girls, and one other young guy.

One of them, the youngest girl at twelve, was reported dead at the hospital. The temperature in the room was well below zero, and most of the victims' bodies couldn't take it.

Sherlock was thrown in there last, and suffered the least, but God was he cold when John pulled him out of there.

"G-_God_..." Sherlock shivered, leaning into John's warmth. He pressed himself fully against him and buried his face into the crook of his neck. John jumped at the frigid temperature and the ice cube-like face pressed into his neck (and the fact that that face and body belonged to Sherlock). Blushing heavily, he awkwardly slid an arm around his trembling figure.

* * *

In the cab on the way home (Sherlock refused to be hospitalized because he didn't trust any doctor unless it was John), after the criminal was arrested, Sherlock felt more free to allow John's warmth to consume him. With his legs tucked under him, he pressed his torso against John's side and his face into his shoulder. Hands numb, he slid them under John's jumper without warning, or asking for permission first.

Jumping at Sherlock's straight-froward action (and the temperature of his hands), he held back a pleasured groan. He was touching his abdomen, and the sensation felt amazing.

_Too_ amazing.

"Sh-Sherlock..." John stuttered, almost pushing him off. He found himself unable to, though- the detective was shivering rather violently and he looked so vulnerable in his attempt to get warm and kind of cute all up against him and-

_Oh, bloody hell._

He wrapped both his arms around Sherlock, bringing him closer, and he shivered violently in response. He then nuzzled under John's chin, taking advantage of the rare situation that would most likely never happen again.

"Thank you, John."

With a heavy blush, John replied, "You're welcome," and began to relax as much as he could with his best friend all over him and the delight of the situation overtaking his hormones.

Even though Sherlock wasn't that cold when they reached the flat, they ended up in a much similar position on the couch, watching crap Telly until John fell asleep, too comfortable to stay awake any longer.

That night, Sherlock slept too.


	13. Avengers (Day 3)

**Avengers**

**Day 3- Watching a Movie**

**A/N- Sorry I'm a little late! I'll post twice today.**

**Anyway, let's mix my two favorite fandoms together. Barely. And add a little bit of angst. (This one sucks I am so sorry.)**

* * *

"Superheroes are highly illogical."

"It's just a damn movie, Sherlock! Either watch it with me or get out." John growled with a roll of his eyes. He was already frustrated with Sherlock and the way he felt around him- he wanted to watch a good movie to forget everything for a while, but of course, Sherlock was somewhat interested. And bored.

Sherlock stared John down for a moment before joining him on the couch. "I don't understand why you are so frustrated, but I want to watch. There aren't any cases and I'm-"

"Bored, I know!" John finished for him exasperatedly. Sherlock glared at him and then settled in, on the opposite side. John sighed heavily and started "The Avengers", knowing that it was a bad idea to even try and watch with Sherlock in the room.

But then he seemed somewhat interested as the movie progressed. Scooting closer, he spoke. "Loki seems...interesting."

"He reminds me of Moriarty."

Sherlock felt sick at the thought of the criminal, especially since he hasn't been spoken of in months.

"...uh. Sorry. Didn't mean to say that aloud." John apologized awkwardly, turning to hide his face more from Sherlock. He was getting worse and worse at concealing himself. And now he felt like shit, thinking back to the fall...

"Doesn't bother me. Are you alright?" Sherlock wondered, concerned. He saw John's pained face before he turned away, and it bothered him immensely.

"Fine. Let's just...watch this." John lied.

Sherlock nodded slowly and turned to look at the screen. Loki currently was being a smartass to Thor, and it was amusing...but his thoughts were elsewhere. Lately there had been a thick barrier between him and John, and he was quite sick and tired of it. He knew what it was.

He loved John.

And John obviously felt the same way.

And while he was thrilled at that fact, he was also downright terrified of it.

_Similar to Black Widow and Hawkeye_, he thought later.


	14. Date (Day 4)

**Date**

**A/N- Sorry I am so behind! I was really busy last weekend :/**

**Day 4: On a Date**

* * *

After a rather prolonged case, even Sherlock could admit that he was hungry. He and John had a quick meeting with Lestrade, and then they headed to Angelo's to eat. They sat in silence as they (mostly John) devoured the bread, but then began speaking. John cracked a couple of jokes, Sherlock chuckled at some, and they reviewed the case that they had just solved.

"That criminal was rather strange. Who would go around stealing random hedgehogs? And then capture me?" John inquired, popping another piece of bread into his mouth.

"Hm. Well. A lot of our little fans seem to think that you resemble a hedgehog." Sherlock replied, limiting John on his bread intake by pulling the basket towards him.

"That's ridiculous." John spoke around the small amount of food still in his mouth. He shook his head and wiped his hands and mouth on his napkin.

"Indeed." Sherlock agreed with tired eyes. Suddenly, they widened. "Um, John..."

A girl with brunette hair and angered brown eyes approached the table, her small mouth set into a frown. "Hello, John." John jumped and stared up at her in shock. "Abbey, what are you doing here?"

"I was eating out _alone_, as you told me you were on a case with Sherlock. Not on a _date_ with him!" Abbey remarked, narrowed eyes flicking between the two. John's eyes got big. "O-oh, no, you see-"

Sherlock reached across the table and placed his hand on top of John's relaxed fist that rested on the table. "Yes, that's what he told you, isn't it? Now you can see that he lied. We obviously are on a date, so if you could leave us alone, that would be much appreciated."

Abbey wasn't the only one who was completely shocked and angry. But John was the only one who was embarrassed with a heavily blush staining his cheeks. Abbey left in a fit of rage, and John made no effort to call her back.

"Sherlock? What the _hell_ was that all about?" John demanded, snatching his hand out of Sherlock's grasp. He merely shrugged in reply, and picked up his menu to avoid John's question.

"Sherlock." John growled. Sherlock slammed the menu down, rage and frustration evident within the darkening green.

"Isn't it obvious John? Isn't it obvious by now? I've been waiting for you to make the 'first move' as they say for quite sometime now because I don't really understand how relationships work. I've deleted most of my romantic history and have not yet been able to gain some of it back. I don't want to screw anything up but obviously you're too much of an _idiot_ to understand that we are both intimately attracted to one another." Every single one of John's emotions attacked him- shock, love, pain, guilt, passion, joy, etc...

Seeing that John was making no effort to reply, Sherlock got up and strode out quickly.

By the time John had snapped out of his daze, Sherlock had disappeared, leaving him to wallow in his own guilt and uncertainty.

And to pay the check.

* * *

**A/N- Gosh this sucks. **


	15. Drunk (Day 5)

**Drunk**

**A/N- I think you guys will like this one! C; Maybe. **

**Day 5: Kissing**

* * *

When John entered the flat, it was late and the smell of alcohol wafted through after him. His steps were steady, though, even when going up the stairs, so he wasn't drunk. He had gone to the bar, and with Greg, Sherlock noticed as he peaked at the blond through his eyelashes. John glanced at Sherlock and sighed heavily, fingers raking through his hair as he headed away to his room.

_He thinks I'm asleep._

Sherlock wished he were, though. More tired than he would like to admit, the incident that occurred at Angelo's was preventing him from sleeping. And of course John wouldn't attempt to wake him up to talk about it- it was a rarity when Sherlock slept.

He didn't really want to talk about it, anyway. He acted mostly out of jealousy and payed the price.

_Emotions are stupid and ruin everything. I need to delete them..._

Grumbling, he jumped up to make himself some tea- maybe that would help him sleep, although he highly doubted it.

He leaned over the kettle for several minutes, in deep thought as he replayed the scene from earlier in his head. He let his mind consume him, becoming completely oblivious to John's approach. Only when the blonde turned him around gently did he escape the confinements of his mind.

"I thought you went to bed." Sherlock mumbled, pulling himself from John's warm touch and backing into the counter. John smiled gently up at him. "Well, I thought you were asleep." Slowly, he got closer and slid his hands from Sherlock's stomach to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt. In response, Sherlock gave an almost unnoticed shiver. "What are you doing?" he asked, grip on the edge of the counter tightening.

"Making the first move." John answered simply. He pulled Sherlock into a kiss, lips moving slowly against his to allow him to get used to the motions.

John's lips were soft and gentle and tasted of mint as he had just brushed his teeth. Sherlock's stomach flipped summersaults, a relatively new and uncomfortable- yet at the same time pleasurable- feeling. After recovering from the unexpected show of affection, he released his grip on the counter to slide his arms around John's waist and pull him closer, lips responding eagerly to the other pair. John slackened his grip on Sherlock's shirt to grasp his ebony hair, burying his fingers in the curls as he had been dying to do for so long now. A hum of pleasure escaped his throat in response, and he deepened the kiss, hands exploring appropriately but curiously.

The kettle had been wailing the whole time without either knowing, until the screech became unbearable and John forced himself back. "The...the tea." Sherlock quickly shut the thing up, muttering, "Sod the tea," and then spun John around to trap him between his body and the counter, attacking his lips hungrily.

If John wasn't intoxicated before, he certainly was now- he was _without a doubt _drunk off of Sherlock Holmes.

* * *

**A/N- I'm awful at kissing scenes! D:**


	16. Clothes (Day 6)

**Clothes**

**A/N- Crap, I've already written this prompt! Oh well. Sorry it took me so long to post this. I had no ideas and I had some issues as well. _**

**Day 6: Wearing Each Other's Clothes**

* * *

It seemed like a peaceful morning of staying in the flat all day, as John woke up late without any disruptions. Usually Sherlock's antics woke him up early.

He rolled over to get more comfortable and possibly continue sleeping when the detective burst into his room suddenly. Why did he even _think_ that Sherlock wouldn't need him for _something_?

"John! Triple homicide! Get up! We have fifteen minutes! _Joooohn_!" John groaned as Sherlock shoved him fully awake. "Okay, Sherlock! Shut up! I'm getting up!" Sherlock made sure the blogger got out of bed and rushed off, most likely going to get dressed- he was wearing only his sheet again. John sighed as he quickly pulled on trousers and a jumper, going on a mad search for his shoes (in the sitting room. Sherlock must of moved them) before rushing to the front door, waiting for the detective to finish as he pulled on his coat.

He suddenly appeared out of no where, seeming like his normal self as he slipped on his overcoat. But John stopped him from rushing out of the door by stepping in front of him.

"Sherlock? Why are you wearing my jumper?" Sherlock glanced at the white and black striped jumper that barely covered his torso in a rather baggy manner, and then attempted to brush past him without answering, but John just moved in front of him again.

"Ugh, John. It's simple, really- I forgot to run my wash. You had a jumper available and I needed a shirt to wear." he explained, in a rush to get to the crime scene.

"Sherlock, you have to remember to do stuff like that." John informed him, placing his hands on his chest to push him back. Sherlock groaned childishly. "John, I can't wear a dirty shirt."

"Well you can't wear my jumper! It's a little too small on you and what would the Scotland Yard think? We agreed we would wait on telling everyone..." John protested, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been a couple weeks since they shared their first kiss and became a couple, and though the weeks were amazing, they were also filled with much discussion on how the relationship would work.

Sherlock snapped suddenly, as if thinking of an idea. He bounded across the room. "Who cares what they think? If they ask if we're dating, we say yes." John watched his boyfriend- that sounded so childish- rush around, seeming to be looking for something.

"That's a good idea." John admitted, and then suddenly Sherlock was in front of him, wrapping his scarf around John's neck. John raised his brow in confusion, and Sherlock answered his unspoken question. "If we require them to ask, we should make it a little more obvious." John rolled his eyes, but grinned happily. "I don't mind. Besides-" John lowered his voice to a husky, flirtatious whisper as he leaned in closer, "you look quite adorable in my jumper."

Sherlock cursed his hormones for causing him to blush at John's words, and kissed him quickly to somewhat satisfy his needs. "And you in my scarf. Now, let's go!" He all but flew down the stairs, and John chuckled, following him while shaking his head.


	17. Halloween (Day 7)

**Halloween**

**A/N- Apparently, this holiday isn't celebrated in the U.K. So they're not in the U.K for this case! XD**

**Also, I'm bad at posting every day. I apologize for that!**

**EDIT: SO APPARENTLY YOU GUYS DO CELEBRATE IT. APOLOGIES. US AMERICANS ARE WRONG SOMETIMES. I HEARD IT FROM A FRIEND. **

**Day 7: Cosplaying**

* * *

John stepped out of the hotel bathroom, adjusting his vest for the costume he was wearing. "Sherlock? Are you ready?" He froze when he saw the detective sitting in a chair, polishing the sword for his costume. A brown leather hat shadowed over his eyes, and he was dressed mostly in brown with a low V-cut ratty shirt underneath a jacket. Instead of his usual dress shoes, he had on leather boots.

"I have been, Bilbo." Sherlock smirked up at the _The Hobbit _character, standing and putting his sword away. He towered directly over John, smirk now seductive. He felt himself go weak at the knees, and grasped onto Sherlock for support. "Hm, I'm almost convinced not to go." Sherlock hummed in agreement, bending down to kiss John. Sadly, it was a short encounter, and the pirate pulled away. "It's for a case, John. We have to go. Americans celebrate Halloween and, fortunately, so does our killer. So now, we do too." The "triple homicider" had escaped from Britain to New York, having connections all around the world, apparently. This man had actually killed more than three, and was wanted by multiple forces.

And Sherlock and John were going to catch him.

Dressed as Bilbo Baggins and Jack Sparrow.

"Alright." John accepted, smiling up at him. He turned to leave, expecting Sherlock to follow, when he was stopped by a hand grasping his arm and turning him around.

"When we get back, we really should put these costumes into better use." He lowered his voice to a seductive tone, and John almost lost all his self control. With a cheeky grin, he replied with a salute, "Aye aye, Captain."


	18. Bored (Day 8)

**Bored**

**Day 8: Shopping**

* * *

"_Jooooohn_." John cringed at the moan of his name, trying his best to ignore it as he searched for another jar of jam- the store was having a sale, so he decided to buy a couple jars for the flat since they were low anyway.

It was well into December, and since catching the killer in America in the middle of November, no worth-while cases have come up. Sherlock was moaning and groaning at home, so John hoped dragging him out of the house to help him with the shopping would do him some good and cure his boredom.

_Nope_.

"John, there are hundreds of flavors of jam. Just pick one so we can leave this infernal place." John glared at him, annoyed. "It's not _that_ easy, Sherlock."

"Yes, it is."

"Then you pick!"

"I don't care enough to pick out a damn flavor!" John pinched the bridge of his nose, calming himself so he didn't shout at Sherlock in the middle of the store. Taking a deep breath, he reached for a random one, placed it in the cart, and started towards the next isle. Sherlock followed him. "I told you."

"I was only tired of you whining, ya prick." Sherlock smirked at the nickname, not guilty in the slightest for causing John frustration (he was adorable when like that).

"Are we done now?" Sherlock inquired, hoping they were- it had already been 30 minutes, and he wasn't sure he could take much more of the activity.

"No, Sherlock! Will you shut up for about five seconds?" John requested in an annoyed tone. Surprised that there was no protest, he grinned. "Thank you." He turned to smile at the detective, but he wasn't there. Groaning, he looked around.

Sherlock had disappeared.

He didn't have time for this. Pulling out his phone, he fired off a text.

_Where did you go?! -JW_

He didn't expect to get a text back before he put his phone away.

_Come find me. -SH_

Hide-and-seek?! Was he serious?! They were in the middle of the damn store, and not to mention they were adults- plus, John needed to deliver some items to Mrs. Hudson before dinner time.

_No, Sherlock. Get your arse back here or I'm leaving you. -JW_

_You wouldn't do that. You're too nice. -SH_

John let out another frustrated groan, knowing the detective was right- he couldn't do that to him. He would feel to guilty for doing so, especially if Sherlock threw a fit afterwards and refused to talk to him.

_You are such a child. Give me a hint, at least. -JW_

_Dull. Deduce, John. -SH_

John decided to complete his shopping, minus the cold stuff, looking for Sherlock along the way. He wasn't as smart as his boyfriend- he couldn't look at an item and notice that it had been turned slightly and know that therefore he was down the isle of the turned item. Or footprints in a wet area, or the scuff marks of a certain shoe- he wasn't that observant.

His phone buzzed again.

_John, it's so painfully obvious if you would just think. -SH_

John nearly threw his phone across the store, but allowed himself to calm down and think.

It took him a couple of minutes, but he suddenly had an idea and rushed to the other side of the store.

"Sherlock, we still aren't buying a lobster." John remarked, finding the man watching the aquatic animals lay in the tank. Sherlock turned, holding a bag. "It's okay. I bought one myself." John swept a hand down his face, chuckling. "You are such an infuriating man, you know that?" Sherlock smirked, placing the bag in the cart. "So I have been told. That is why you are attracted to me, no?" John laughed, steering the cart away. "One of the reasons, yes. Now I'm almost done- I just need the frozen's. Come along." Sherlock obeyed, following behind him. "It took you 16 minutes and 39 seconds to find me."

"Meh, I got bored."


	19. Jealousy (Day 9)

**Jealousy**

**A/N- yeah okay Sherlock's kind of OOC but I love his over-protective side that I read about in other fan fictions.**

**Day 9: Hanging Out With Friends**

* * *

Christmas Eve brought a number of guests to the flat that Sherlock dreaded helping John clean- he had to put away his experiments and that annoyed him, but he was happy to get a good apology snog afterwards.

Molly and Greg chatted up in the corner, giggling about nonsense, and Harry and John spoke about her being sober for a good two months so far, and how it was quite difficult- yet rewarding- to stay away from alcohol. Her new girlfriend- Alex- was getting food from the kitchen, and Sherlock assumed that's what she meant by "reward." Mrs. Hudson joined Greg and Molly, and Alex entered the room and sat by John on the couch.

Everyone was happy and festive and Sherlock honestly didn't give one shit about Christmas. Or people. The only thing he was glad about was that Mycroft was too busy with his fiancé to attend the get-together.

Sherlock wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself, and maybe John, that he was somewhat upset that he couldn't be beside him at the moment- John had warned him and the others not to tell Harry that they were a couple until Harry and him were alone. And he wanted to be the one to tell her.

He sighed loudly and tapped his fingers on the table. He was extremely bored, and didn't want to speak to any guest that was there. He would escape into his Mind Palace, but the noise around him was too loud, and he wasn't permitted to leave the sitting room.

Speaking of too loud, Alex laughed obnoxiously and boisterously, leaning in into John as he had said something funny. Her hand was on his thigh. Sherlock tensed. Why was she touching and leaning closer to John? Wasn't she Harry's?

Yes. But she was bisexual, Sherlock knew after a deduction. Not a lesbian.

And she was also attracted to John. _His_ John.

He bit his tongue, holding his rude comments and feelings for the blond in. He couldn't believe that he was jealous, of all things- now he understood how John felt with Irene this time several years ago. And he hated it. He hated feeling.

John didn't move her, but his eyes shifted over to her uncomfortably. Sherlock wished he weren't so nice all the time.

"You're so funny, John." Alex giggled, flipping her long, dark, curled hair over her shoulder. She had bright blue eyes and an hourglass figure and she _was flirting with John._

John chuckled uneasily, eyes shifting to Harry. "Oh, I'm not that funny."

Alex shook her head with a flirty smile plastered on her face. Her chest, shown by a low-cut shirt, was sticking out more than necessary, and now her hand was closer to his groin. "I think you are." John grinned uneasily, moving her hand away from him only to have her brush it up against the side if his thigh. Sherlock was sick of watching the girl throw herself at his boyfriend. He crossed the room with only a few paces, pulled John off the couch and kissed him hard enough to bruise, forcing his mouth open and wrestling with his tongue.

John protested with a loud "Mmph!" before moaning in pleasure quietly, pulling the detective closer by gripping his shirt.

"I knew it!" Harry nearly screamed, causing John to jump back and gape at her, cheeks bright red. "Okay, okay, you were right. But..." He turned back to Sherlock. "What the bloody hell was that for?" Sherlock turned to look Alex, who's jaw was dropped, directly in the eyes- which held a look of disappointment. "I got tired of pretending that you aren't mine." Before anyone could speak again, he shouted, "Who wants eggnog?"


	20. Fanart (Day 10)

**Fanart**

**A/N- Sorry I'm behind AGAIN! Lots of stress these past couple days. Nevertheless, here you go!**

**Day 10: With Animal Ears**

* * *

Sherlock never payed much attention to his fans. He knew of their craziness and their obsessive manner about him, so he tried to stay away from them as much as possible.

So when he walked into the kitchen the next morning, he didn't expect to see a piece of fanart on the table. It was rather good, he would admit, but why the cat ears and tail? (He would've ask himself why John was petting him but he liked that, so he ignored it.)

"Why does this drawing associate me with having cat qualities?" he questioned John, who was making tea. He chuckled in reply, coming over to look once more at it. "I found it in our mail. It's quite good, don't you think?"

"A bit not good," Sherlock disagreed, "I am _not_ a cat!"

"C'mon, Sherlock," John remarked, nudging him gently with his elbow, "Lighten up. I think it's kinda cute."

"It's impossible. For me, at least."

"No, it's not." John argued playfully, turning his attention back to the tea.

"John, I am not going to modify myself to have feline parts." Sherlock denied stubbornly. John's smirk was mischievous. "You're right." Sherlock was suspicious, but he silenced himself, deducing that John obviously had something in store for him.

The next day, a black headband with cat ears and a pin-on tail laid on his desk.

And, secretly, Sherlock put on the ears.

Not the tail, though. That would be silly.


	21. Drugs (Day 11)

**Drugs**

**A/N- this sucks. Sorry. I've been busy. I'm tired. **

**Day 11: Wearing Kigurumis**

* * *

"I feel ridiculous."

"You _look_ ridiculous."

Sherlock had been delighted when a case came in, about numerous children going missing around England, mostly in major cities like London. Of course it was a group of kidnappers that went to daycares to attack.

Sherlock and John had marked down every place a child had been taken from and figured out the code behind the seemingly random choice of daycares. They located the next targets, picked the closest one, and managed to get Lestrade to let them in.

Sadly, the only way to investigate was as campaigners dressed in ridiculous one-piece animal costumes called Kigurumis. They were annoying, difficult to maneuver in, and stuffy. The two were to spread a message about anti-bullying or drugs or something beneficial. John thought it would be helpful to Sherlock as well to go with anti-drugs. Hilarious. And now he regretted taking the case at all.

"That certainly helps." Sherlock muttered bitterly. John rolled his eyes with a grin and gave his partner a gentle peck. "A good ridiculous." Sherlock pulled him back in to get a better kiss, but the caretaker interrupted that.

"And now, children, please welcome Odis the Otter and his sidekick Happy Hedgehog!" Sherlock groaned and almost fled the backstage, but John shoved him though the ruby curtains and followed in behind him onto the stage. The children were screaming and applauding and some were crying for their parents.

"I'm Happy Hedgehog!" John exclaimed, sounding unsure, and Sherlock almost laughed. All the kids quieted down and stared at him in anticipation. "Happy" nudged him.

"Uh...and...I'm...Odis. I'm an otter." He scanned the audience, and suddenly, someone suspicious caught his eye. He shoved John in front of him. "J- _Happy_, my partner, will now explain the side effects of drugs. Don't do them." And then he fled the stage. John fumed quietly. "Well, kids, considering _Odis_ left me alone...drugs are bad to get into. They make your brain ill."

Sherlock pulled the hood of his ridiculous outfit down, searching frantically for the suspicious man he had caught a glimpse of in the audience. The suspect had a gun in his pocket, and small, very faint bloodstains on his coat.

When he reached an undetectable area where he still had a view of the audience, he realized the man was gone.

But by the time he realized that the man was backstage with him, Sherlock was stabbed with something sharp in the neck. A burning sensation coursed through him and black spotted his vision.

"Don't do drugs, Mr. Holmes." The voice was male. Russian.

Sherlock lost all focus and was out before he hit the floor.


	22. Missing (Day 12)

**Missing**

**A/N- everyone seems to be confused. Guys, I'm in the middle of the 30 day OTP challenge. Each chapter continues from the last one. Sorry I wasn't clear about that XD**

**So this one is like...long and angsty. And I don't know much about the law so bear with me XD**

**Day 12: Making Out**

* * *

"Greg, I'm telling you, he's missing. He won't answer any of my texts or calls and he disappeared without telling me where he was going. Don't you think that sounds a little unusual?" John was panicking. Sherlock had been missing for two or so hours, and after searching every inch of the daycare, he realized that the detective wasn't in there. No replies, no answered calls- Sherlock always texted back immediately. That's what he did, to get the latest updates on cases or such. Or he would at least show that he read it with that nifty iPhone option.

But the messages hadn't even been read. So John decided to call Greg for information, in which he had none.

"You're right, John. I'll get my boys on it, alright? We've caught one of the culprits. He's in for interrogation, but he's not talking." John stopped his intense pacing. He wasn't going to talk? Fine. He would make him. "I'll do it."

"John, I'm not sure that-"

"Greg. It's my only chance. Please." John begged, beginning to break. No- he had to stay strong and calm. For Sherlock's sake.

Greg drew a long, hard sigh. "Fine, John."

"Thanks, Greg. I'll be there soon." John hung up quickly and rushed to get a cab. Sitting in the backseat, he felt almost powerless, his mind creating worst-case scenarios as to what had happened to his detective, his best friend, his boyfriend, his partner. He had to stop thinking about it before he freaked out.

_It's Sherlock. He'll be fine._

* * *

"Where's Sherlock?"

A dark chuckle emitted from the prisoner. They were in the interrogation room, being monitored by Greg and others behind glass.

"You must be John Watson. Please, sit." He motioned towards the chair across from him, a smug look on his face. "After all, without your detective, your leg must be sore."

"Damn my leg!" John shouted, slamming his palms on the table the Russian sat at. He chuckled darkly. "Ever heard of the Red Room, Doctor Watson?"

John thought back to his younger, comic book days and _The Avengers _that Sherlock had watched with him about six months ago. "In fiction, yes."

"Well, it's very much real now. And I'm sure your little detective is in there right now, dead."

John clenched his teeth and slammed his fist on the table, causing it to shake against the impact. "Where is the Red Room?!"

The Russian didn't say anything regarding the institute. He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

"Moriarty had quite a few followers, Doctor." Within hearing that name, John's blood ran cold. The bastard was dead. All of his web was dead. He shouldn't of had followers. Sherlock had taken extra care to remove them all.

"He didn't know us, though. Call us his fanclub. We know we'll never amount up to the king- but we sure as hell can try."

John rubbed a hand down his face. "So you're a group of nerds that bow down to a fake king, enjoy hot red heads, and killing children if they don't amount to anything, based from fiction?" The Russian glared, black eyes narrowed as he stood up. John noticed Greg and some other detectives tense up behind the glass, but showed no fear- because he wasn't afraid of this guy, no matter how tall and muscular he was now that he was visible.

"We're not a fanclub. We're an organization."

"With a dead, involuntary leader. Wonderful." John pressed on sarcastically. "I don't give a shit about what it is or isn't- I want to know where it is, and where Sherlock is. And I want to know now."

"Most likely dancing with the devil like the _faggot_ should be." The Russian spat, and John absolutely lost it. He jumped across the table and landed a hit on the enemy's nose, breaking it with a sickening crunch. As he toppled over him, the Russian cursed loudly, and threw John off of him. As his back and head hit the wall, he crumpled over, laying on the ground as black stained his vision. The door flew open with a bang, but not before John pulled out his gun and aimed it at his attacker. "Don't you ever say that again." he growled menacingly.

"John." Greg warned, inching towards him.

"No!" John yelled in his direction, and then glared back at his target. "Tell me where the _fuck_ he is or so help me I will shoot you directly between the eyes." The Russian didn't feel intimidated in the slightest. "You wouldn't dare. You would be arrested."

"I would dare. I'm a solider. I've killed people. I don't give a shit what happens. You'd die anyway for all the people you've killed- I'd just be doing everyone a favor, killing you early."

"You need information." Now he sounded a little unsure, but kept his composure.

"You gave us enough information that we could go off of. I work with detectives- they might actually be good at their jobs." John shot back, feeling a bit like Sherlock as he spoke.

"John, don't." Greg warned once again.

"Greg,_ shut up_." John ordered.

Tense silence filled the room, every armed official ready to attack if necessary. The Russian glanced between Greg and John, and Greg suddenly realized why. "Fine. John, shoot him."

John tightened his grip on the barrel and began to pull the trigger when the enemy finally blurted out he location of the main institution. John froze, and then lowered his gun. "You better be telling the truth for your sake." He stormed out without looking back, gun lowered. His hand was trembling slightly, but no one noticed.

* * *

John was speaking to the Russian officials around two in the morning, too stressed and alarmed to be tired. The location was correct, thank God, and Sherlock was alive- damaged, but alive. He was sitting on the back of an ambulance, an ugly orange shock blanket draped around his shoulders. Any time someone tried to patch him up, he raged at them, saying how he only trusted John and how he needed him. John had explained that he _needed_ to calm down and let them treat the major ones, and Sherlock complied, grumbling.

Finally, the official let him go, and most of the police force had left. John was allowed to take Sherlock home, thanks to Greg, after fixing him up. He approached Sherlock, who was tiredly leaning up against the edge of the ambulance, eyes closed. John knew he was very much awake, though, and reached out to stroke his blood-matted hair- there was a gash in the back of his head he had to be careful of, which was already taken care of, much to Sherlock's dismay. Sherlock's eyes fluttered open and he stared at John. Taking this moment, John took him in- black eye and bruised jaw, bloody nose, gash in head, bruises around the throat and other random places. Cuts across chest and back, and rings around his writs and ankles where he had been bound and handcuffed. He looked terrible but he played it off like he wasn't just tortured for hours.

"How are you feeling?" John murmured, and Sherlock didn't answer- he only brought John to him and kissed him passionately. John gasped, and Sherlock's tongue invaded his mouth. Moaning quietly, he fought back with his own, the taste of blood apparent but faint. He tangled his fingers into his curls, avoiding the gash, tugging on his head to pull him as close as possible. Sherlock's nimble fingers were tracing every inch of his body, heat trails following his path as he stopped at his thighs and suddenly hoisted him onto his lap, gripping at his back to keep his hold on him. John was overall shocked, and forced himself not to cry out at the strange movement. Besides, it wasn't like it was bad- he loved it, straddling Sherlock, hands exploring his body. He felt dominate, like he could control to whole situation, take him right there in the back of an ambulance...

His own thoughts scared him so much he pulled away suddenly, breathing ragged. His lower abdomen was hot and tense, trousers a little tighter than usual. Sherlock seemed to understand and left the kiss broken, only leaning in to rest his head on John's shoulder. "Tired and hurt." he breathed, and John had to remember what he had asked before Sherlock had snogged him. He placed his hand on Sherlock's bicep and stroked the area with his thumb. "Well, if you let me up, I can fix you and we can go home." Sherlock moved and John climbed off of his boyfriend, realizing that he didn't exactly want to. Shaking his head to clear his mind, he began patching up Sherlock.

They never spoke of what happened to Sherlock behind the closed doors of the Red Room- only the fact that there was a new group out there that was still hiding, still targeting the detective and his blogger.

And they had finally gained a lead, so it was time to move on. Sherlock wasn't the type to dwindle in the past. He knew that the present was the beginning of something greater- in more ways than one.

Their relationship was evolving, blossoming into something that both scared and excited him. They wanted each other, desperately.

Sherlock just didn't know how to make it happen, or if he wanted it to.


	23. Endearing (Day 13)

**Endearing:**

**A/N- A little smut towards the end. But nothing explicit or major. **

**Day 13: Eating Ice Cream**

* * *

"Sherlock? I've gotta run to the store."

Sherlock hummed in reply, staring at the computer screen in front of him. He hadn't been very talkative since last night, and John didn't really blame him. They both had stayed in all day, catching up on sleep and basically being lazy in the sitting room, but they desperately required groceries.

"Do you need anything?" John wondered, putting on his coat. Sherlock pondered for a moment. "Ice cream."

"Ice cream?" John repeated, surprised. Sherlock never ate and now he was requesting food? Plus it was freezing out.

"Yes. Something plain. You decide." He never tore his pale eyes- more of a grey color today- away from the screen. John shrugged and added it to his mental list. He went over to the detective and placed a kiss in his hair. "I'll be back soon." There was a faint smile on his lips, but otherwise he made no effort to recognize the blogger. John left without another word.

Sherlock felt like he was on the laptop for hours before anything interesting happened. He received an email from Lestrade, titled _Video_. Curiosity overcame him and he clicked on it.

_You might want to watch this._

_-D.I. Greg Lestrade_

Sherlock noticed that the video was of John and hurried to click on it. He was in an interrogation room, but no other person was shown from the thumbnail.

Video John strode into the room, tired, stressed, and angry. In the dark was a Russian- most likely part of the Red Room organization.

"Where's Sherlock?" John demanded immediately.

_Being tortured_, Sherlock thought grimly.

A dark chuckle sounded from the shadows. "You must be John Watson. Please, sit. After all, without your detective, your leg must be sore."

"Damn my leg!" John shouted as he slammed his hands on the table, and Sherlock had nearly recoiled.

Present John chose that moment to enter the flat, bags covering his arms as he struggled to enter the flat. Sherlock was too busy watching the video to entirely care.

"What are you watching?" John questioned, walking back into the sitting room empty handed. He had thought he heard his own voice, but...

"Lestrade sent me a recording of your little meeting with the Russian." John blushed with embarrassment. "Oh. Well, I'll let you finish watching while I put everything up and get us some ice cream. I got Neapolitan." Sherlock only nodded, completely focused on the video. He chuckled at his boyfriend's sarcastic comments and threats and orders. But then he was called a faggot and John attacked him...and was thrown into the wall. His head was hit pretty hard against the wall as well as his back. Sherlock made a mental note to check that out.

Then he pulled out his gun and pointed it at the Russian and Sherlock was oddly...turned on at the motion. John's protective behavior and assertiveness...

He felt like pinning the man down on the couch and kissing him into oblivion.

John entered the sitting room again, two bowls of ice cream in his grasp. Sherlock accepted it without taking his eyes off the monitor, not wanting to look at John in fear of snogging him right then and there.

He was almost convinced that John was going to shoot the man- he was full of rage, worry, and stress, and he didn't exactly hesitate much when it came to shooting people when necessary. He heard the John beside him chuckle uneasily. "I was a little mad..." The video ended, and Sherlock placed both the laptop and ice cream down before taking John's and doing the same. "Sherlock, what are you-" The dark-haired man in question stood and went to John's back. "I'm looking at something." He lifted his shirt to see a large and dark bruise that stretched over the length of his back. Still keeping his shirt up, he gently prodded the back of his head. John winced lightly. "I'm fine, don't worry about it."

Sherlock directed his attention back to his larger bruise, and placed his pale hands on his waist before bending down and planting a hesitant kiss to the hurt area. John's back arched at the strangely pleasant feeling and almost moaned the man's name. "Sherlock..." He grinned and stood back up, letting his shirt drop. "The way you acted in the interrogation room..." He trailed off, not exactly sure how to put it in words. John turned, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess I kinda overreacted...but you were missing and I was worried." Sherlock shook his head and pulled him closer by his waist. "No, it was...endearing." he admitted awkwardly, a blush forming on his pale cheeks. John chuckled at his word choice. "'Endearing?'" Sherlock sighed, and leaned closer. "Okay, it was the sexiest thing I have ever seen. Is that better?" His voice was husky and tempting and _God_ John just wanted to kiss him. "Much." he choked out, and Sherlock finally just kissed him hard, full on tongue and exploring. They fell back onto the couch, John trapped under Sherlock. He pulled at his tucked-in shirt and slid his hands under the tight fabric, feeling the detective's spine under his fingertips and cherishing how he seemed to come to life from his touch. Then he realized he was still injured and let off, but Sherlock grabbed his wrists and attempted to guide his hands back. He didn't care that he was hurt. The pleasure that he felt completely overruled the pain.

John suddenly bit his bottom lip and Sherlock let out the most horrifying moan he had ever heard himself make, heat swimming in his lower abdomen and groin and then he realized- he was hard and he was scared. He jumped up on his knees and hands, panting heavily with an immense blush covering his face. John wasn't any better off, and he looked worried and disappointed.

"John..." Sherlock gasped, "I-I can't...I can't..." John hushed him gently, cutting him off. "It's okay, Sherlock." Sherlock sighed sadly as climbed off of him, apologizing quietly. He remembered about the ice cream and handed John his as he sat up and fixed his clothing. "It's fine, Sherlock. Seriously. I'm ready whenever you are. I won't rush you." Sherlock nodded and grabbed his own, taking a seat by John and eating a small bite of strawberry.

He didn't know if he would ever be ready, at this point.

And he felt horrible about it.


	24. Elementary (Day 14)

**Elementary **

**A/N- This one is kind of lame, but only because I freaking hate this prompt with a passion. I hate Fem!lock, I'm sorry. And I'm not a fan of the show Elementary either. So this is as far a gender swapping is going to go.**

**Day 14: Gender-Swapped **

* * *

With nothing exciting happening over the course of the next week, Saturday found John watching crap telly and Sherlock experimenting. In a way, John was as well, searching for shows he hadn't heard of and giving them a chance.

He regretted doing so when he came across _Elementary_.

"Sherlock? Did you know that America has produced a show about us?" Sherlock lifted his gaze from his microscope to watch the screen for a moment. "Why have they done that?" he questioned, and then uttered a noise of disapproval at Joan Watson- really? Why the hell…?

"Hm. It's highly inaccurate." He then turned his attention back to his project. John snorted in reply. "God, I hope so. Last time I checked, I was a male." Sherlock chuckled darkly. "You were male last time I checked as well." John giggled along with him, glad that Sherlock was now being good natured about their last…intimate encounter. For some reason the poor bloke was terrified of sex, and usually his bad moods lasted for days before he finally just let everything go. John didn't care whether they ended up going further or not, though- as long as he was with Sherlock, everything was perfect.

"I'd rather you be male, too." Sherlock added sincerely, finally finished with the first stage of his experiment. He then stood and stretched before joining John on the couch.

"That's good." John replied, looking towards him with a grin. Sherlock returned a small one and then pressed his back against John's side, nearly purring with contentment when John placeD his arm around him and pulled him to his chest, intertwining their fingers.

Sherlock loved the thrill that crimes and mysteries and even drugs gave him, but being with John overruled all of that- most of the time.

Even if they were watching shit about him being a girl.


	25. Tight (Day 15)

**Tight**

**Day 15: In a Different Clothing Style**

**A/N- Sorry about my absence! I've been really busy lately. If you follow Saving Me, that'll be updated real soon!**

**I'm leaving for Florida for a week on Friday, so don't expect any updates.**

**ALSO- My Tumblr is 4geekgirl2. I'll post my statuses on my stories if you follow me! **

* * *

John awoke at around 3 in the morning, and instead of feeling the warmth of Sherlock surrounding him, there was no one else in bed with him. Drowsily, he reached over to feel the spot he should've been in- it was cool. He had been absent a while. A small amount of panic rose in John's chest, his illogical mind jumping to horrible conclusions. He was sure the detective was still in the flat and alive, but just to make sure...

He was getting out of bed when a roll of thunder rumbled, startling him. No wonder he woke up so abruptly and randomly. And that also explained why Sherlock was gone. He must've woken up earlier.

John shuffled into the sitting room where Sherlock was (thankfully) sitting on the couch, on John's laptop instead of his own. As usual.

"There you are." he mumbled, and dropped into the empty space beside him. Sherlock didn't speak, focused on the computer screen.

He was watching the interrogation again.

"Why are you watching this?" John inquired. Sherlock sighed. "The thunder woke me up, and then I started thinking too much to fall back asleep."

"Thinking about the case?"

Sherlock paused before answering. "Somewhat, yes." The video ended, and Sherlock sighed with frustration before restarting it. John eyed the screen with confusion. "Sherlock? How many times have you watched the video?"

"This would be my tenth." John looked at him, blue eyes full of worry and curiosity. "Why?"

Sherlock sighed again and nearly slammed the laptop shut, ducking his head to ruffle his hair in frustration before looking back to John. "What you did...was...it was good." The blonde was taken aback, but he grinned tiredly at him. "It's no problem, Sherlock."

"No. It is a problem." He stood and began pacing. John's grin slid off his face. "What?"

"John, when you found out I was missing, you were prepared to do anything within your power to find me. You nearly shot a man to get information, even with Lestrade and the rest of the yard watching you. You disobeyed them. You punched the fanboy as soon as he called me a 'faggot.' I should give you more gratitude than a mere, 'that was good.' You deserve more than that, John. I feel like there's so much I'm not giving you..."

"Oh. I see where this is going." John reached out for him, grabbed his hand and pulled him gently back down onto the couch. "Sherlock...look. I understand how you feel. You don't even have say it. I know you're thankful. Yes, I would love to hear it, but I understand if you don't say it. And with the sex, which I'm aware that you were implying, you don't have to be the...erm. Receiver, if you don't want to. I understand you aren't comfortable with it. I just don't know why. And you don't even have to tell me. It's all fine."

Sherlock stared blankly at him for a moment. Then, "John...I love you."

Smiling, John planted a sweet and tender kiss on Sherlock's mouth, pulling away only a few moments after Sherlock responded. "I love you too. Now, care to come back to bed?" He jumped at the sudden roar of thunder, and then chuckled uneasily. "Well. Maybe not." Sherlock fell onto his back and pulled John down with him. "You don't like thunder because it used to give you flashbacks from the war." John cuddled deeper into Sherlock, suddenly exhausted. "Yeah. Leave it to you to know that."

Sherlock hesitantly stroked John's hair, remembering how much he liked it when John did the same for him. It knocked him right out, and Sherlock laid there thinking until about seven, when he received a text from Lestrade.

_Got a case. Interested?_

* * *

John came home from the store to find Sherlock adjusting his skin-tight jeans in the mirror- they were grey, with an expensive looking design on the back pockets, tucked into dark purple high-top Converse. Along with that was his violet dress shirt, the first two buttons undone for a view of his pale chest.

"Sherlock?" John questioned with furrowed eyebrows. Sherlock turned around sharply. "John! We have a case!" John nodded, disappearing into the kitchen to put up his items. "I see that. Now, what are you wearing?"

"We're going to a Russian gay bar."

John nearly dropped the milk jug in surprise. He placed it in the fridge slowly before appearing in the kitchen entryway. Sherlock smirked at his bewildered expression. "I'll explain it on the way. Mycroft is providing us transportation so we need to be ready in half an hour. Your outfit is on your bed."

"Sherlock, you're still injured."

"I'll live."

John sighed, finished his task, and then headed to his room to get ready. There was no use of arguing with "Case Sherlock."

He stared at himself in his own mirror. His jeans, much like Sherlock, were skin-tight and about two-sizes too small, but a dark emerald, tucked into his worn-down brown army boots that he hadn't touched in years. He fiddled with his dog tags, hanging in front of his grey V-neck- and also tight- shirt. Sherlock certainly did know how to pick an outfit. However strange. With a deep sigh, he stepped out of his room. "Am I supposed to not be able to breathe?" Sherlock rolled his eyes, which were otherwise glued to his phone. "You'll function just fine." He then glanced up at John and he almost dropped his phone. He looked absolutely sexy in the tight clothing, especially the jeans. Or maybe the shirt. He couldn't decide between his arse and his biceps.

"I dunno, Sherlock." John mumbled, uncertain. He looked over to him, and then grinned. "You're blushing." Sherlock grumbled quietly to himself, averting his attention from his boyfriend. Suddenly, John was leaning over him, arms braced on either side of his head. "I would sit on your lap, but I don't think I could get back up. You look absolutely gorgeous yourself, you know." His voice was low and husky and Sherlock was already turned on immensely. He grasped the dog tags and pulled John in for a sloppy, heated kiss. Biting John's lower lip, he pulled back to plant more kisses and bites along his jaw and neck. "God, Sherlock..." John moaned, gasping as the back of his thighs were grasped by his long, nimble fingers and he was forced to straddle his lap. He moaned even louder when Sherlock grasped his arse, and he fumbled for the buttons on his shirt, capturing his lips in a heated kiss once again.

Suddenly, Sherlock's phone chimed rather loudly and repetitively. John broke away, and Sherlock picked it up and answered with a normal and causal tone, as if he hadn't just been on the verge of sex. "Hello?" Glancing at John out of the corner of his eye, he grasped John's butt again with his free hand. John hissed out his name angrily. Sherlock smirked. "Yes, Mycroft. We'll be out in a moment. Oh, of course we'll behave. I'm not a teenager."

Even John heard Mycroft's reply.

"But you do have the hormones of one at the moment." John snickered and Sherlock scowled, ordering his brother to "piss off" before hanging up with rage. John rolled his eyes with a grin. "He's right, you know." Sherlock shrugged. "Can you blame me? I mean...look at you." He ducked his face back into the crook of his neck and sucked on it. John pulled away with some effort and stood carefully. "Thanks, but we should leave." He sounded choked. Sherlock sighed and stood, buttoning his shirt back up. As they walked out, Sherlock said, "We should at least ruin the back of the car."

"No, Sherlock."

"_Jaaawn_..."

"Sherlock, _no_!"


	26. Morning (Day 16)

**Morning**

**A/N- Sorry I've been so dead lately! I kinda lost inspiration and then I got into two new fandoms (Supernatural and Star Trek, in case you're curious) and I'm bad with multitasking, so...yeah. Here you go, finally.**

* * *

**Day 16: During Their Morning Rituals**

John woke up in his bed alone, but he wasn't exactly surprised. Sherlock never slept much, so he was probably up to his usual morning experiments or web-browsing. John stretched as he got out of the warm confines of his bed, bones popping as he moved. He shuffled towards the bathroom, relieving himself and then headed to the kitchen for his breakfast...and possibly Sherlock's if he'd cooperate today.

"Morning." he spoke, ruffling Sherlock's dark curls as he passed the man- on John's laptop, of course. Sherlock hummed a reply, and John walked into the kitchen. "Hungry?" he called back, putting two pieces of bread in the toaster anyway. He prepared some tea, and Sherlock sat down at the table. "I'm not, but assuming you want me to eat something, I suppose I will." John grinned at him. "Hm. You must be in a good mood then." Sherlock shrugged, his own smile forming. "Well, last night was rather eventful."

John chuckled, shaking his head. "You solved a case _and_ got to snog your blogger senseless in the middle of a Russian gay bar...and then in the back of your brother's car." Sherlock smirked at the doctor, who sat a piece of plain toast on a plate and tea in front him while he smeared strawberry jam on his piece. "It was a successful night indeed. And maybe when we're done eating...we can continue that." John's cheeks resembled his jam. "Um...maybe after I shower. I still smell like alcohol." Sherlock rolled his eyes exasperatedly, but later allowed John to shower while he brushed his teeth and shaved, and then vice versa. Sherlock poked his head out of the shower curtain. "John?" John had just finished shaving and was patting his face with a towel. He looked towards the detective.

"Maybe next time we can shower together instead of separately." John rolled his eyes with an amused smile. "I doubt we won't get much cleansing done, then." Sherlock's darkening eyes glinted mischievously, and with a smirk, he spoke huskily. "Who says that's mandatory?"


	27. Spoon (Day 17)

**Spoon**

**A/N- Still alive, gais! I've been a bit busy lately. Sorry for the wait! Maybe I'll post multiple chapters today to make it up to you... **

* * *

**Day 17: Spooning**

After showering, a rare fatigue washed over Sherlock- he hadn't slept but maybe two hours last night, and he required maybe a couple more to reach his normal sleeping habits. He yawned and nearly collapsed onto the bed. John chuckled and laid beside him. "You tired?" He reached out and twirled a finger around Sherlock's damp, dark curls, and he leaned into his touch with an affirmative hum, scooting closer to John to bury his face into his T-shirt clad chest. John used his entire hand to rake through them now, skin and shirt becoming wet. He couldn't bring himself to care, though, as the detective's breathing slowed and he completely relaxed under his touch. John thought he was asleep, but a few minutes later he mumbled, "John?" Surprised, John pulled away slightly to look down at him. "Hm?"

Sherlock looked up half-lidded. "Can we try something?" John's mind began to wonder, thinking about every single possibility that Sherlock might want to try. He was hesitant, but he nodded. Sherlock raised up and gently rolled John over to where his back was facing him. He settled back down, body spooning his blogger's. John chuckled lightly. "You could've just asked to spoon." Sherlock wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pressed his face into the back of his neck, kissing it gently. "I could've. But I love watching your face as you try to figure things out." John's reply went unheard as Sherlock fell into slumber, but he did feel warmth cover his own hands resting on the blond's stomach. His last thought was simply John, who he ended up dreaming about after he entered his REM cycle.


	28. Gift (Day 18)

**Gift**

**A/N- Thank you guest reviewer who has corrected a bunch of my American ways. I'll try to remember them in the future. ^_^;**

* * *

**Day 18: Doing Something Together**

Sherlock was nervous.

He was never nervous.

But yet, here he was, fidgeting when John wasn't looking, perspiring slightly (but luckily got to blame it on the unnatural heat wave), and his heart was beating quicker than normal (110 beats per minute as opposed to his normal 75-80).

He tried to focus on the dead corpse he was examining- but his mind continued wondering to later this evening. To the fact that he had been with John for seven months and nine days now. That it had passed by so quickly, yet he felt like he could be with John forever.

And that led back to his nervousness.

"You alright, Sherlock?" Molly inquired. She knew of the detective's plan. In fact, everyone did except for John, really- as far as he knew, Sherlock had forgotten about his birthday. Sherlock nodded without looking at her. "Of course I am." He backed away from the body. "John, look over him while I leave with Molly for a moment. We both need some coffee." John nodded and pushed off the wall he was observing from, heading over to the corpse. He glanced at his boyfriend, and Sherlock stared back at him, looking away when he noticed his worry and confusion. "I'm fine, John."

"I know you are." he replied, taking a closer look at the body without any further statements. Sherlock followed Molly out of the lab, and when John was out of earshot, Molly squealed. Sherlock groaned and rolled his eyes. "Molly, please refrain from squealing again. I enjoy being able to hear." She grinned widely. "I'm sorry, but I'm just so excited!" Sherlock returned a small smile. "I suppose I am a bit too. But I can't calm myself down. I have tried since I came up with my plan and bought the-"

"Can I see it?!" Molly interrupted. Sherlock couldn't even feel annoyed with her this time- he pulled out the gift and showed her. "Do you think he'll like it?"

Molly gasped and took it carefully to admire it closer. "It's amazing! John is one for simplicity. He'll accept, trust me." she gushed excitingly. Sherlock took a deep breath. "Though there is a rather high chance of him doing so, there still is another chance of everything going wrong."

Molly squeezed his shoulder shyly. "Well it's low, so calm down. Let's go get some coffee. And get some for your boyfriend so he doesn't feel under appreciated. I mean, for God's sakes, he thinks you forgot his birthday."

* * *

Sherlock kept staring at the text he had fired off eight minutes and 28 seconds ago and the one he had received almost immediately after.

**Meet me at Angelo's. -SH**

**Oh, you remembered?**

He didn't want to reply. He wanted John to be completely surprised when he arrived to see not only his boyfriend, but also Greg, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and even Mycroft and Anthea (Lestrade had invited the elder Holmes, though he had already planned on attending anyway).

"Oh, Sherlock! This is so exciting!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, and gave his hand a squeeze. "Don't worry, Dear. John will love it." Sherlock nodded once, flashing her a small, grateful smile. Then his phone buzzed.

**Almost there. You didn't have to do anything for my birthday- you know I don't care.**

**Yes, but I do. -SH**

* * *

John knew that the detective had forgotten about his birthday.

And honestly, he wasn't disappointed. He was simply another year older- why should anyone celebrate that? It was just a normal day.

Well. Until they got a case.

That was easily solved, though (the brother killed him because he killed their father). John had finished his part of the case when Sherlock texted him about meeting at Angelo's.

Now he was confused.

Sherlock had suddenly remembered and wanted to celebrate? This was out of character, even for him. Molly must have helped him plan it when they went for coffee. Yes, that was it.

He wouldn't complain about a nice dinner, though. He entered the building, shocked to find their friends- and Mycroft and Anthea- sitting with the detective, who was wearing that purple shirt of his that John loved to see him wear and black trousers. Normal attire, but under the golden glow of the lights, he looked extravagant.

A chorus of "Happy birthday!" made John grin like an idiot as he approached his boyfriend standing before him. "Thank you all." He smirked at Sherlock. "Did they help you out?"

"Well I told Mrs. Hudson what your gift was and my plan to pretend I forgot all about your birthday and she said I had to be more romantic about it- she called up Molly and they gossiped like girls until they planned out coming here to treat you. Then Molly told Greg and he and Mycroft, who knew before anyone because he's an annoying prick, created the case to keep you distracted while I prepared the rest." John looked awed as he thanked them again. Then he snapped out of it and grinned up at Sherlock, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep yet brief kiss. "Thank you. Really. You didn't have to." Sherlock smiled back. "But I wanted to."

They all got situated and ordered their food, and Angelo of course congratulated John and almost ruined everything. But the blond remained confused and said, "It's just my birthday." Mycroft nonchalantly ordered more wine immediately (to get Angelo away) and Greg questioned if they had some beer (because God knows he needed it).

Sherlock suddenly stood and pushed his chair back to where he was standing beside John. John looked up, startled. So did everyone else, but they knew what was coming. "Well considering Angelo almost ruined everything, I might as well do it sooner than originally planned." John's eyebrows furrowed together. "Do what?"

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I wasn't one for sentiment or love or anything and you know that, John. But then I came back after the fall-" He paused to press a kiss into John's hair as he winced, "-everything had changed. Between us, especially. Though we'll never be the same after what's happened, I find myself glad. We're together now..." He paused once again and dropped to one knee, pulling out a black velvet box with a simple silver ring in it. Engraved on it were the words _I owe you so much_, because they saved each other from their impending demise. "And I wish to stay that way for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?"

* * *

**A/N- Sherlock had been kind of set up to say all that OOC stuff- it'll be addressed in the next chapter so please refrain from saying how OOC he was. *Is a fail at Sherlock***


End file.
